Welcome/Welcome back, dear readers. Just a heads up, for the uninitiated-
If you haven't already read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, the following story may not make much sense.
If you are unfamiliar with the characters of Doki Doki Literature Club, the following story may not make much sense.
If you haven't read my previous entry in the Dokis at Hogwarts series, Year One, the following story may not make much sense.
And finally, if you are already well acquainted with all of the above- the following story may not make much sense.
POV: YURI.
I quickly ducked behind one of the many large, bulging barrels scattered at random points around the uneven brick road, bending my knees to ensure my entire body was completely concealed behind the circular wooden structure.
I then fought hard to control my breathing and calm my racing heart.
What was HE doing in THERE?! Did he see me?! D- did he recognize me?!
It took me every single ounce of self control to keep my body language neutral while the garbled, barely coherent voice of panic screamed in my head. I had to endure it. Had to keep projecting absolute, apathetic normality to the sparse crowd of strangers passing me by, as if crouching down behind this barrel was a totally premeditated and very intentional choice on my part.
Deep breaths, Yuri. I instructed myself, unclenching my jaw to exhale slowly. And pull yourself together, this is NOT the place for a panic attack!
I swallowed anxiously, forcing myself to go through my self-taught breathing exercises and bring my thoughts in order. It took me a few seconds, but I eventually managed to push the simmering hysteria far enough away from the surface to take stock of my situation.
Whether this was a sign of genuine self-improvement, or merely my fear of losing it here outweighing the concern of actually losing it, I wasn't sure. An optimist would probably go with the former, however unrealistic it might seem.
Okay. I thought, clenching my hands tightly to keep them from trembling like daffodils in a tornado. First thing's first. Check again to see if it really WAS him. You have a habit of jumping at shadows.
Grabbing the upper rim of the old barrel, I carefully hoisted myself upwards to sneak another confirming glance at the gloomy, rickety windows of the slightly tilted building across, its aged architecture making it appear as though the entire structure had been on the verge of collapse for the last forty years.
Despite this deceptive and somewhat hazardous façade however, it remained the single most well-kempt ad upstanding shop of the entire area by far, which admittedly spoke more to the quality of the alleyway itself.
Above the splintered black wood of its entrance door there was a worn-down sign announcing the name of the shop in thinly scrawled, barely legible letters:
BORGIN & BURKES
The most high-profile, infamous antique shop in all of Britain, owing its reputation in large part to the sheer amount of unusual, ancient and oftentimes dangerous magical objects they had on full display.
It was easily the most threatening, shadiest, and fascinating store I'd been to. The store I'd been just about to enter before he had given me pause.
In retrospect, I could have cursed my own stupidity for coming here this late in August. Of course Diagon Alley would be swarming with returning Hogwarts students looking to buy their new books, supplies and what have you for the upcoming start of term. That was all predictable enough. What I'd failed entirely to take into account though, was the possibility of coming across someone I actually recognized here, in Knockturn Alley of all places.
Seeing Draco Malfoy and whom I presumed to be his father calmly exiting the store had been anxiety-inducing enough but I'd managed to get over the initial shock relatively quickly. I'd never once interacted with the pale-faced, blonde boy during our past year at Hogwarts, and I doubted I ever would. I don't think I'd even have a clue about who he was if not for our shared friend, Monika Winther, (who thankfully didn't seem to be accompanying him right now) or the many heated mentions my parents made at dinner about Lucius Malfoy and his many efforts to reduce funding for their department of Muggle Relations.
All those things taken into consideration, it wasn't really that surprising to see Malfoy traversing the shady streets of Knockturn Alley, and certainly nothing that would paralyze me to this degree. I wasn't completely spineless.
What had been surprising was seeing the world-famous Harry Potter exit the very same store mere minutes after the Malfoys, haphazardly staggering out onto the streets all the while feverishly looking all around in every possible direction.
Mine included.
I re-examined the grimy street again, half praying this was simply a case of mistaken identity, but no. Though his face and robes had been obscured greatly by a thick layer of soot and ash, it did nothing to hide the perpetually unruly mess of jet-black hair on his head, which after attending school with him for an entire year had become almost as iconic as the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
There was no doubt about it. Harry Potter was standing just a few feet from me, appearing dazed and confused as he stared blankly around the street, completely out in the open at the center of everything.
As usual.
My breath hitched and I ducked down again, my head flooding over with dizzying catastrophe thoughts. I had no idea why Harry Potter was in a place like this, but I knew what always followed wherever he went: Attention.
Just by virtue of being in his near vicinity, I was risking exposing myself to the public eye. In mere moments he'd be coming towards my poor excuse for a hiding place, and before I'd have a chance to even blink, I'd be entangled in media coverage from all the press that was sure to arrive. My face would be sprawled along his on the front page of the Daily Prophet where my parents would see me directly opposing their orders to never enter Knockturn Alley, to which they'd pull me out of Hogwarts, snap my wand and leave me on the streets to fend for myself without any hope of ever rejoining Wizarding Society again!
You're being hysterical. Breathe.
…okay, so maybe it wasn't the most probable outcome, but fear had a funny way of throwing rational thought out the window and make even the most outlandish proposals seem somewhat plausible. I was doomed.
You're being paranoid! A voice of cold, logical reason finally decided to chime in and pull me out of my downward spiral like a cold glass of water thrown in my face. Quite disturbingly, it spoke with the exact same intonations and pitch as Natsuki's impatient growling. The Press doesn't record his every breath, he's not THAT famous! And why would he approach you? He doesn't even know who you are!
Exhaling again, I chanced another peek over the barrel, forcing myself to re-survey the situation. Hesitating slightly, I slowly raised an arm to feel around the black shawl draped over my head, reaffirming to myself that all of my vibrant, purple locks were still well and truly concealed beneath. It wasn't as if I'd been foolish enough to enter Knockturn Alley without taking steps to hide my most noticeable attribute.
Natsuki- no, I was right. I wasn't any closer to Harry Potter than I was to Malfoy, I'd never even talked to either of them! There was no reason to suspect he'd have even an inkling of my identity beyond 'that one stupid Ravenclaw girl who messed up in Potions that one time.'
Sheesh, took you long enough! The voice continued drawling exasperatedly. Look, he's already leaving. Just ignore him, go into Borgin's and buy the thing, you'll be fine!
Sure enough, Potter had begun stumbling in the opposite direction from me, leaving behind a faint trail of ash on the already mucky pavement with each step. It was only a matter of minutes before he'd round a corner and finally leave my field of view for good.
Emboldened by this pleasing turn of events, I stepped out from my hiding place at last and after a deep sigh of relief made my way toward Borgin's, fully content with forgetting any of this had ever even taken place.
Whatever business Potter had here was his concern, and I'd be all too happy avoiding looking into it. I myself had a very old and intriguing deck of blood-stained cards I'd saved up for all summer, and I refused to delay my purchase any longer! According to history, the deck's curse had already forced fifty muggles and at least one wizard to literally gamble their lives away!
Imagining how marvelous it'd look along the other pieces of my collection, I idly gave one last, passing glance towards the Potter boy and the oblivious way he was squinting at everything through the shattered glass of his utterly broken glasses…
…wait, what are you doing?
Stopping up again a mere three steps away from the shop's entrance, I made a subtle, appraising double-take in Potter's direction. Why was he covered in all that ash, anyway?
Doesn't matter, it's not your problem! Ignore him and move on already! Cursed cards, remember?!
But my curiosity had been peaked now, grabbing my attention as effectively as a brand new horror novel. Adding onto the ash, why were his glasses smashed like that? And why did he look like he'd just fallen straight down every single Hogwarts staircase? Had he been in a fight?
I supposed it wasn't out of the question. The rivalry between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter last year had been so publicized, even I knew about it. If the two had encountered each other in a small enclosed space like Borgin and Burkes', the likelihood of a skirmish didn't seem that far fetched.
But when Malfoy and his father had left the store, there hadn't been so much as a wrinkle on his expensive, black robes, not a blonde hair out of place. From what I'd seen of Potter, he didn't strike me as the sort of person who'd take Malfoy's punishments without giving back at least twice as hard. And it still did nothing to explain the main mystery that'd bothered me from the very beginning.
Why was someone like Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the one who'd allegedly repelled the Dark Lord himself, skulking around the single most disreputable dark magic slums in all of Britain? And why was he glancing around everywhere like that? If I didn't know any better, I'd say he looked just as perplexed by his surroundings as… as I was…
My eyes widened as an answer suddenly came to me. Surely he hadn't had… a Floo Powder accident?
It seemed almost too absurd to be true, but all the signs were there. The ash, the disorientation, the obvious misplacement… It all lined up perfectly with someone who'd stepped into a fireplace for the very first time and found themselves in a completely unexpected, new place. Thinking about it, Harry Potter had lived with Muggles his whole life, hadn't he?
Just like my friend, Sayori. I strongly doubted she even knew what Floo Powder was, which meant…There was every chance that he'd never tried it either! He wasn't here on any suspicious errand, he was just… lost.
My heart-rate increased slightly, pumping mild worry on his behalf into my bloodstream. In Knockturn Alley, the very last thing you'd ever want to be was 'lost.'
Already now, some of the skulking residents had started taking notice of his unsure movements, turning their heads in his direction, glinting eyes locking in on his clueless expression. He might as well have been carrying a large, white sign saying "OUTSIDER HERE- COME AND GET ME!"
Unless he got a grip on himself very soon, he wouldn't last long like this. Especially once they discovered who he really was. They would pounce on him like Grindylows smelling blood in the water, and eat him alive- literally speaking in some cases! I'd seen at least one hooded vampire creeping around these parts!
I bit my lip guiltily, contemplating my next action. Someone had to help him get back to Diagon Alley before he got cornered. In theory, I could do it. Get to him first, act like we were close friends who accidentally split up, and guide him on the right path. Theoretically, simple enough. In practice, though?
I shivered just considering it. Not only would I have to talkto the Harry Potter, I'd have to convince him he could trust me enough to help! And that wasn't even mentioning all the uncomfortable questions he'd surely have for me, like who I was, how I'd found him and most damning of all, what I was doing here.
Under no circumstances did I want to reveal those secrets with anyone, let alone him. I might as well send my personal diary directly to The Daily Prophet for publishing.
But I couldn't just let him roam around Knockturn Alley either.
I suppressed a groan of frustration, both at him for putting me in this impossible situation, and at myself for freezing up again like I always did!
Helping him was the right thing to do! It was the kind of thing any half-way decent person would act on without a second thought. If I was Sayori, I wouldn't even be hesitating!
But then again, if I was Sayori… I wouldn't even be here at all…
I shut my eyes momentarily, gritting my teeth.
…fine.
I begrudgingly opened my eyes again, clenched my fists and moved towards him with swift, firm steps.
I'd do the decent thing, bite the jinx and help him. Accept the possibility of all my secrets leaking to the public. Get shunted by society, and labeled a freak. It wasn't like I deserved any better.
Maybe I can spin it in a clever way. Hide my face, disguise my voice, something to make it harder for him to recognize me…
But if I tried that, he might panic and try even harder to run away, which would only rile up the crowd even more… No, probably not the right move. Maybe I'd figure something out at the last second. Maybe… it wouldn't be so bad…?
"Fiv' Sickles fer one measly slug repellant?! Tha's damn robbery, that is! I'll giv' two an' a knut, an' tha's that!"
A loud and scarily familiar gruff voice from behind pulled my attention from Potter, making me whirl around on the spot to spot the owner. My jaw nearly dropped in disbelief.
Standing just a few feet away from me was an absolutely enormous man, towering over one of the many small, greasy booths sprawled throughout the area, apparently haggling with the small, hooded owner. If his telltale size somehow hadn't been enough of a giveaway, the bushy black hair surrounding his face as well as the huge, brown moleskin coat draped over his fearsome shoulders confirmed his identity beyond a shadow of a doubt.
…How did I miss him?! I thought, stunned at the absurdity. Has Knockturn Alley just become a hotspot for all Hogwarts residents?!
Then, after recovering from the shock, my heart gave an elated leap as the beginning of a plan started forming in my head. I swiftly abandoned my goal to reach Harry Potter, and ran instead at the gigantic man.
"Mr. Hagrid!" I exclaimed breathlessly upon reaching him, having to raise my voice to get his attention from all the way down here. "Mr. Hagrid, Sir!"
This was better than I could have ever asked for. Another well known fact at Hogwarts, the Gamekeeper was always on exceedingly friendly terms with Harry Potter! If I just nudged him in the general direction of the lost boy, I wouldn't risk being outed to anyone!
Hagrid reacted to my outcry by turning sideways and tilting his massive head downwards with an almost glacial movement. Somewhere deep within his nest of coarse facial hair, I could just barely make out a pair of beetle-black eyes, squinting questioningly as he finally spotted me.
I stood my ground, doing my best to remind myself that this was a kind man who'd never hurt another person. It was still difficult to resist shivering with intimidation- Obviously I'd known Hagrid was large, but you never quite realized how large until finding yourself standing right before him.
"…who, me?" He asked, pointing at himself with a finger bigger than my entire head. Though his voice still carried its usual gruffness, it had softened considerably. "Can I help ye, little gir- hey, hang on a mo'. Don' I know yeh…?"
What little remained of my confidence ebbed away on the spot as my blood ran cold with realization. How had I managed to forget it?! The potion hadn't just affected my hair, but another part of my body as well. A part I was currently flashing directly up at Hagrid.
My eyes! They're purple!
Screaming internally at my thoughtlessness, I retracted my gaze from his, praying I could still salvage this somehow.
"P- Potter!" I croaked out hoarsely, pointing sideways just as the black-haired boy ahead was approached by what looked to be a nail-selling hag. "H- here! N- needs h- help!"
"…Harry?!" Hagrid stood up a little straighter, thankfully seeming to understand my fear-devolved caveman lingo. "Wha' the ruddy hell's he doin' here- hey! Where're yeh goin'…?!"
But I didn't wait for him to finish, choosing instead to run away as fast as I could as soon as I knew Hagrid had gotten the message. I weaved through an approaching crowd of black-hooded wizards (a very popular fashion choice around these points) before diving behind another conveniently-placed barrel.
After somewhat gathering my wits as well as my breath, I slowly peeked up again just to make absolutely sure I wasn't being followed. Hagrid was still standing frozen at the booth, looking very confused as he stared in the general direction I'd gone. He then glanced back at Potter who appeared to be quite unsuccessful in shaking off the hag.
Come on, Hagrid… I pleaded silently over my heart hammering from both the run and nerves. Choose the more pressing issue…
I then breathed out a deep sigh of relief when he finally shook his head and stomped the opposite way, bellowing out at the hag to get off Harry Potter.
I exhaled deeply, feeling as if an anvil had been lifted from my shoulder. I allowed myself a brief moment to gather myself before standing up again, and, with as calm a face as I could project at the moment, walked off.
That could have DEFINITELY gone better. I thought, cringing at the replaying events in my head as I finally reached one of the dark alleyways leading into the brighter, noisier Diagon Alley.
As I went along the narrow brick road, I removed and deposited my shawl in an inner pocket of my black robe, allowing my hair to flow freely down my back. Getting recognized around these parts wasn't quite as world-ending. I just hoped I wouldn't have a run-in with any of my friends now. At this moment, my social energy was drained to an all-time low.
I'd given up my plan to visit Borgin's. Maybe I'd give it another attempt in the winter holidays when the streets weren't so crowded, but it was simply way too risky right now. Three close calls in one afternoon were a bit much for my taste.
I shivered to myself at the thought of Hagrid, and hoped the situation had been too brief and hectic for him to have really recognized me from my unique eye coloration alone. He wasn't a real teacher at Hogwarts, so I didn't have to dread having him confront me in any classes. Maybe I could just get through this upcoming year without ever needing to interact with him a single time? He didn't strike me as the type to intentionally hold something over me, but there was no way to know for sure…
I shook my head dismissively and reached into my pocket, retracted the list of school supplies I'd been sent just a few days ago. Now that the cursed cards were no longer on the table for me, I might as well just go ahead and get started on the original task I'd used to justify this whole trip to my oblivious parents.
I folded out the parchment just as I fully entered the sun-kissed streets of Diagon Alley, juxtaposing the previous streets with its vibrant and excited chatter from all the returning students around me.
Just as I was about to read it however, my blood ran cold at hearing a loud, shrill voice of distress pass me by.
"Where is he, Arthur?! Where is he?!"
I meekly glanced up from my list to see a collection of people right in front of me, widely varied in age, size and gender but all sharing the same hair colour of bright, burning orange.
The speaker, a particularly pale, plumb woman was sending long searching looks all around the street, her face lined with wrinkles of deepest concern.
Feeling a very foreboding sense in the pit of my stomach, I slowly stepped backwards, concealing myself in the shadow cast beneath the parasoled roof of an ice cream stand. But though my heart pounded loudly in my chest, it wasn't nearly enough to deafen the continued raised voices of the family.
"I- I'm sure he must be somewhere close by, Molly dear. From what I heard, he didn't misspeak too critically. If I had to guess, he probably just ended up in a different shop…"
"I told you Dad, he's never used Floo Powder before!"
"Don't reckon people will be too pleased when they find out we just made the most famous wizard of our generation disappear. Good going, Mom!"
"Shut up, Fred!"
"I'm George!"
"Oh, how could we have let this happen?! What if he's stuck in some Muggle chimney?!"
"Now now Molly, only fireplaces belonging to wizards are connected to the Network! …mind you, it's possible he could have been dropped out in Knockturn Alley…"
"WHAT?!"
"Oh no! We'd better head in there right now and look, right Mom?!"
"You'll do no such thing, George!"
"I'm Fred!"
"Arthur…!"
"Right… Let's just calm down here, Molly. How about you take Ginny and check the remaining stores while me and the boys try asking around if anyone's seen Harry?"
"Fine… but under no circumstances are you to take them to Knockturn Alley!"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Molly sweetums… Let's meet up here again in a bit, okay?"
A painful twinge of guilt stabbed through my heart as the family split up and dispersed in their search. Hearing their conversation, it hadn't exactly been hard to deduce the cause for their apparent distress. Someone under their care, lost to a Floo Powder mishap. An anguished family, split apart and running themselves ragged in their desperate search to find him again.
And all of it was my fault.
No… I did the right thing! Hagrid was way better suited for the job! He'll get Potter back to them in no time!
I sighed. Logical as my justifications tried to be, the fact remained that Harry Potter would have been reunited with the family now if I'd just toughened up and led him back. Due to my cowardice and indecisiveness, people were suffering for longer than they strictly had to.
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus on the school supplies list, shaking along with my trembling hands.
There was nothing I could do about any of that now. It didn't make sense to keep beating myself up about it. Might as well just move on, and try to get something constructive done.
That wasn't going to stop me from actively regretting every action that'd led me to this point, but I digressed.
I appraised the mandated items on my list. I'd need updated spell books, new potion supplies… Probably a trip to Madam Malkin's as well. A frankly alarming growth spurt had caused my old school robes to dangle goofily above my angles. I prayed this was just a one-time development…
Then, as my eyes darted further downwards to the next few items, my guilt at abandoning Harry Potter was temporarily driven from my mind, replaced by severe embarrassment. It took everything I had just to suppress the groan of despair threatening to emerge from my throat as I realized the type of books I'd be required to purchase.
Oh no… Not Lockhart…!